


dead hearts and midnight cowards

by newsbypostcard



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you want to get out of here?" he adds then, all in a rush; and Bucky's not sure he meant to say it but he knows what his pulse is doing and he knows what his dick is doing besides, and he knows that Steve is looking like that and that he's looking <em>at him</em> like that, too. Bucky swallows to think about pressing his mouth to him, any part of him, every part of him, if they can only find some space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dead hearts and midnight cowards

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [dead hearts and midnight cowards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099420) by [Christoph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christoph/pseuds/Christoph), [fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017/pseuds/fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017)



> I'm trying my hand at a Bucky who's real fucked up and clinging desperately to the icon of Steve before he even knows he's Captain America, because the only way to hope, the only way to survive something like a war, is to love someone this much, this wholly, sometimes. It's a bit stream-of-consciousnessy in parts, intentionally; experimentally.

  


  


It's not quite the first time they've seen each other in a year and a half, but it feels like it, the way they stand on opposite ends of the tent and just stare at each other like that.

"Hi," says Steve. He looks so prim in his uniform, so tall and robust, but his face is still Steve's -- pressed together just slightly with worry and yet fighting for neutral, those eyes blue and soft.

"Hi yourself," says Bucky, and he forces just a hint of swagger when he says it. But then he's out of conversational avenues, already, isn't that funny, so he just puts his hands into his pockets and waits, hoping Steve has better ideas.

"You get my letters?" Steve asks. It's a stupid question because Bucky wrote back to every one, but it's better than what he had, which was nothing, so he's not here to judge.

"Yeah, Steve," says Bucky. He clenches his jaw. The tension is building between them rather than dissipating and Bucky just wants it to crack open, instead of hanging like this. "I got your letters. You get _my_ letters?"

That's a stupid question too because he knows good and well Steve wrote back to every one, and yet Steve somehow never mentioned _this_ about himself -- the shape of him, the bulk of him -- so some passive aggression seems justified.

"I got 'em," Steve says.

"Good," says Bucky. "Wouldn't have wanted 'em to get lost."

"No," says Steve.

"Wouldn't have gone over well."

"No," says Steve again.

"I said a lot of things," says Bucky. "I thought I was gonna die."

"Yeah," says Steve. "I thought so too."

Oh, _god,_ save them from honesty.

"Wow," says Bucky. "Good to know what you think of me in a combat situation. Though now I guess I've seen you," and he gestures at Steve's form, "I can see why."

"Oh! I didn't mean," says Steve, and then he shuts his eyes tight and says, "I meant I thought," he tries again, and it's no more successful because the punchline is the same, _I thought we were never gonna see each other again,_ because people don't come back from the war, see, especially not when they have a Barnes' luck.

And Steve is so awkward, god bless him, look at him, standing there with his face to the side and his shoulders slumped in his uniform and god, _god_ , Bucky could stare at him forever like this because it's _Steve,_ isn't it, it's the same Steve he left behind. It's been a year and a half and they've said a lot of stupid shit and there's a bunch of stupid shit they never said besides that, but they've both survived this long and Steve looks pretty hot anyways.

"I love you," says Bucky, quiet, just because he can.

Steve straightens his back and gets this smile on his face like it's the only good news he's heard in weeks. He looks away and his cheeks get pink and he doesn't know what to do with his hands suddenly, and it's Steve, _god,_ it's Steve, it's _Steve,_ and Bucky's so happy he could kiss him then and there, but he settles for a smile because, well, he can't help it.

"Bucky." Steve says it on a breath, and he looks around like anyone's gonna hear them now, even though it's midnight and they're thinking of pushing the front in the morning. When he looks at Bucky again Steve licks his lips and makes them slick and suddenly all Bucky can think about is the way Steve looks when he's on his knees and taking Bucky into his mouth, the way those pink cheeks suck in, the way he looks up at him while he's doing it. The way he grips at Bucky's hips as though to coax him deeper down his throat, and his eyes, oh god those baby blue eyes oh god Jesus Mary Joseph--

Bucky blinks; the present comes back into focus. His eyelashes dust low over his cheeks. "You look great," Bucky says, and then gives a breath of laughter because it's the understatement of the century. "You been sick much?"

"Bucky." Steve says it again, lower, and Bucky wonders what _he's_ thinking about, now.

"I guess not or they wouldn't have let you enlist. What'd they do to you, Steve?"

"Nothing," says Steve lightly. "I volunteered, I told you that."

"Yeah, you were always trying to do that."

"I've always been a giver." It's one of those muttered things that used to be for Bucky only, and they always drove him wild, because dry comments about his own sexual proclivities were proof in the pudding that Steve Rogers was as sharp with his tongue as he was filthy with it. No one, not a single soul, would ever believe Bucky if he tried to tell them when Steve said stuff like that, and he knows that's why Steve says it.

"God," says Bucky when he thinks all this, and the word is hard and blocking in his throat. "Do you want to get out of here?" he adds then, all in a rush; and he's not sure he meant to say it but he knows what his pulse is doing and he knows what his dick is doing besides, and he knows that Steve is looking like that and that he's looking _at him_ like that, too. Bucky swallows to think about pressing his mouth to him, any part of him, every part of him, if they can only find some space.

Steve's face battles with the idea. He looks down at the drafting table where he's got a ruler and a long sheet of paper and a variety of pens, and Steve was always so good with a pen, he's drawing a map. Can you imagine if Steve Rogers was actually _meant_ for this job but was only in the wrong body the whole time?

His fingers are steepled against the surface of the table and Bucky's eye catches on them, because they're so long and he's so strong, now, he's so confident, he's taller than Bucky. He carried him out of a Hydra cell with those hands. What else could they hold him against?

"Are you sure?" Steve asks eventually, and the gentle pinch of his brow tells Bucky that _he's_ not sure.

"I'm sure about you," Bucky says, in that quiet voice.

"I hate it when you do that," Steve says immediately, even though he doesn't. "We can't talk like that here."

"Who says? You think no one's ever -- you think we'd be the first ones?" Bucky loses against the smile battling for purchase on his lips. "I've been here a while now, Steve. Let me tell you, we wouldn't."

"It's still a risk," says Steve, but there's a quirk at his mouth and Bucky knows he's making headway.

"It's a risk not to," Bucky says, just as fast. "They might not know why but they gave me a clean bill of health in there," and he kicks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the med tent he's just left, "which means I'm going back to the front soon, probably tomorrow with the rest. Now I don't know what you're gonna do, but looking at that map on the table there and given that you just tried to sacrifice yourself in a fucking _Hydra POW camp,_ Steve, Jesus _Christ_ \-- now just what in fucking hell you think you're doing trying to do a thing like that?"

It gets away from him, the sentence does and so does the feeling in his chest, and he's not desperate for Steve's mouth anymore but he's still desperate to touch him. "God, Steve," Bucky says, before he can reel it back again. "You showed up and saved my goddamn life, we shouldn't be here right now, you and me, but we are, we're alive and we're all right when we're not supposed to be, and we've been sending all these letters and all I've wanted to do is to touch you for upwards of a year. And now I see you and I want it even more. And you know you don't have to, I'll understand, but in that case Steve you better put me back where you found me because I love you too damn much and I don't w--"

Whatever else Bucky was gonna say stays unknown because Steve makes a furious sound in the back of his throat and steps swiftly forward and grabs Bucky by the hand, and not gently either. Before he knows what else is happening Steve is pulling him out of the tent and they're slipping around the back edge of the camp in silence, as much as anyone can slip by anything when they're furious, because Steve clearly is and Bucky thinks he might be too but he's at least happy to be out of that tent where that tension built between them. He doesn't mind being led by Steve, and especially not with his fingers switching up and wrapping around his wrist instead, _oh,_ Bucky likes that, Steve is so -- he wants those fingers around his dick so _bad_ , he stumbles when he thinks about it and Steve catches him effortlessly without quite even turning around, and that doesn't exactly help the situation he's facing overmuch.

They get to the cover of trees and it's reckless, it's _reckless_ , just what the hell do they think they're doing on the edge of their encampment in enemy territory without a goddamn _weapon_ on them? Fuck, _fuck,_ Bucky's skin is buzzing, and he knows this is serious but he reaches out and tugs Steve in by the lapels when he finally turns to face him.

"Bucky," Steve gravels, and yeah, he's hopping mad all right, Bucky can hear it in his voice, but all it does is spurn him on harder, and Steve's hands are at his waist anyway.

"God," says Bucky, "look at you," he says, and it's something between a whisper and a groan because Bucky is overcome, I mean god -- _look_ at him, look at him, god, " _look_ at you--"

"Bucky," Steve says again, and the hands at Bucky's waist aren't trying to push at him anymore. They are steady and whole and Bucky is _held_. "We can't talk like that in camp, you know we can't. I'm worried about--"

"I'm not," Bucky says brazenly. "I'm not worried, Steve, I'm not worried about a damn thing anymore now that you're here," and it's a filthy lie but Steve is playing at something too, so he can live with it.

Only Steve shakes his head. "You didn't let me finish. I'm worried about _you,_ Buck. _Jesus,_ look at you. Are you _shaking_ , Bucky? What the hell is going _on_?"

"I love you," Bucky says at once, and Steve's hand splays against his back as though fixed there by the words.

"I'm worried about you," says Steve again, but it means the same thing. Boy are they close now. "This isn't right, the way you're acting. I wish you'd talk to me about what happened in that--"

But Bucky kisses him then, just tugs him down by those lapels and kisses him, and it's hot and stupid and sloppy. Steve does that thing he does when he's surprised by it sometimes and just stands there and takes it a minute before answering back. But when he does it's worth it, it's _worth_ it, _god_ , Bucky had never imagined quite this because he's never tipped his head back to kiss Steve while standing even a little bit, and the height difference isn't much but it's enough and Christ he is hard oh god he is aching Christ shitting fuck _Jesus_ why is Steve _like this_ , why does he still kiss like he's got everything to lose, only the difference is that now Bucky does too. Even with Steve trying for restraint like this it's too much, it's so much, Bucky feels dizzy and fucking drunk with it, god, deliver him from this, he can't take it, he has _become want,_ he only knows _this_ , this thrum in him, the way that Steve, the way Steve _everything_. Bucky opens his mouth to take more of it and he _moans_ and Steve fucking --

"Mm," Steve is saying, and then he pulls Bucky back with fingers curling in his hair. "Buck," Steve whispers. He's pursing his lips together and looking at the ground, but Bucky's still close against him and he can guess that Steve can feel how hard he is.

"We said it all already, Steve," Bucky tells him, hands fidgeting, desperate for more. "We've been sending those letters, and it was stupid but we did it anyway. I love you, you know that Steve, and I'll say it a thousand times, and I know you love me too. You don't have to say it if you don't want, I know you like rules except when you don't, but I'm done with them. I'm done with just about everything except you these days, you oughtta know."

"Bucky," Steve says. He must've said his name six times over by now.

"Please," Bucky says then, and his hands are undoing Steve's coat as Steve holds at his back and his neck. Steve doesn't move when he does it except to close his eyes, and Bucky knows, then, that Steve's fighting as much as he is. "All those things we wrote, Steve, they had to've been true. They were true, weren't they?"

"I -- yeah, Buck. Yeah, they sure were."

"Tell me they're true, Steve, won't you?"

"They're -- true, _god_ Bucky you know they are--"

"Then don't push me away now. I don't know if I could stand it if you did."

"I feel all that, of course I do, I want everything we said we'd -- but that doesn't mean we _should_ , it doesn't mean we can just--"

"Why not?" Bucky scans his hands over Steve's shoulders as he works the jacket off him and _holy Christ,_ would you look at those, hell on wheels, those muscles, Lord Jesus. " _Steve._ Oh, look at you, Steve, will you let me please."

"Bucky, I don't think we've… talked enough, I really don't," Steve says; and when he brushes a thumb over Bucky's cheek it's all kinds of intimate and Bucky is relieved, he's so relieved, because he knows he didn't make up a bit of it, only Steve is still talking. 

"Bucky, you don't look well," Steve is saying, and Bucky is watching his lips as he does. "You don't look well at all, I'm sorry to say. You look like you -- lost a part of yourself, or something, and you wrote me all that but I didn't know... did Hydra…?" Steve shakes his head tightly, his face is contorted with concern. Bucky hates for him to be hurting, but he won't pull away right now, he just won't. "Will you talk to me about what happened in that cell? Because--"

"No," Bucky mutters, and brushes a hand at Steve's neck, at his jaw, _god_ how he wants him. "I don't want to talk about the war right now. We can talk later, Steve, but right now I need -- please, I need, it's been -- Steve it's been a proper year and a half, Steve, I don't -- I don't know how to keep standing without, _please_ don't--"

And maybe it's because Steve's done the same thing so many times over the years, maybe it's because he always turned up at Bucky's after a fight and nearly swallowed him down right there in the doorway, but Steve seems to understand something then. He nods and his hand clutches at Bucky's hair and then Steve pulls him in and then he _kisses_ him, and --

A sound leaves Bucky's throat right away. There's white flame in his lungs. Steve deepens the kiss and pulls him in as tight as he can and it's the same as it used to be except that Steve's big now. He's so tall and _fuck_ he's strong, _god,_ and when he gets air in his lungs he moans once again. He could push against the pull of Steve's hands if he wanted to but he wouldn't get anywhere, and it's the best feeling in the world, to be held here by Steve and not to be able to leave. It's just what he wanted, it's everything -- he's _home_.

Bucky's world is reduced to the thrum of his pulse. It's in his eyes and in his neck and in his dick, oh _fuck_ , and his hands are clutched in the front of Steve's shirt and his hands start trembling when he tries to tug it up from Steve's waistband and to pull it over his head. But Steve is steady and steady and steady and pulls it over his head himself, and then his hands set to work undressing Bucky, too, and that's just fine because his fingers can't stop touching Steve. They can't stop running over his new shape, he wants to learn it so bad, he wants to learn all of it and touch everything, _god_ the muscles on him. Bucky's fingertips find grooves and heat and he's losing it, his jacket's gone, his shirts are gone, Steve's hands are fussing at the waistband of his pants and Bucky moans and drops to his knees the second his fingers find skin because he's not sure he can take that but he is sure he wants to suck his dick until Steve's eyes roll and damn Steve if he thinks any different.

"Buck," Steve objects immediately, because of course he would, but Bucky finds stability, he finds it somewhere deep in his core, and he palms Steve's dick through his pants and thank _god_ he's hard too.

"Bucky," Steve says again, only this time it's shakier when Bucky moves his hand, it's of a new quality, and Steve's pants are undone. Bucky folds them just off his hips, just far enough to get his cock free, and _god, fuck,_ he's hard and he looks so good. Bucky feels like he's worshipping at some altar, he looks up at Steve where he's kneeling before him, and he gets a little dizzy to see him looking down in that _way_ , somehow absent and entirely present to see Bucky at his feet.

Bucky holds Steve's eye when he curves his tongue around the head of him -- when he catches, swallows down that drop forming at his tip. He tugs at Steve's pants harshly, forces them off his thighs in one, and he runs his hands over his legs, these thick muscles, dear _fucking_ god how is he like this, and "Fuck," Bucky says. He learns these muscles with as much detail as he can spare and mutters to him, "Jesus, Steve, _Christ,_ do you know what you look like? God, Steve, you're driving me -- Christ, I can't--" And then he presses his lips against his leg, one hand coming up to stroke at his cock as he does, and when Steve's legs start quaking a second later it only adds to it, only makes Bucky want him more. 

Bucky moans, something soft in his throat; Steve moans, too, when he presses the sound against his leg. Bucky moves his hand lazily over the length of him as he learns Steve's legs with long strokes of his lips. 

Steve says, " _Bucky,_ " with his head thrown back and one hand clutching in Bucky's hair, and Bucky _loves_ to hear his name like this, god it's been so long. It's been so fucking long and Steve's so fucking big now, and Bucky scans his lips over the place where Steve's leg meets his hip, moves his mouth toward centre. He strokes his tongue long over his cock and holds against Steve's knee when he shudders, and he shudders with his _whole_ body, he loves what Bucky's doing to him, and Bucky looks up at him again, just to capture him in this moment.

And Steve is -- _resplendent._ He is illuminated in shattered moonlight, and Bucky keeps watching as he closes his lips around him. He wants to see the part of Steve's lips, the bob of his throat, as he tries to get control, to stay controlled; and Steve's hand is still tight in Bucky's hair, his fingers curled, and they clench there as Bucky pulls off him and pushes slowly back on. 

It was already good and it gets better when Steve gives gentle pull, when he encourages Bucky's pace, _god_ it makes Bucky heady for Steve to fuck him like this. He braces his hands against Steve's thighs with some moan in his chest, and Steve guides Bucky's mouth deeper and off and then deeper and god, oh god, oh god, oh _g --_

But suddenly Steve's hand is holding Bucky's head back and Bucky's gasping for breath, lips swollen and twitching, still wanting for Steve's cock. "You can't do that," Steve is saying, his tone wrought and rough, "You can't do that, Bucky," and Bucky realizes he'd forgotten to breathe.

"You always used to do that," Bucky remembers through some laugh, a sound wrenched from the core of him, and he relishes when Steve's fingers clench in his hair as though aroused by it. "I never understood why," Bucky continues, and his eyes are closed and he wants Steve's cock back in his mouth so bad, so bad. "I never understood how you could forget to _breathe,_ Steve, because you kinda need that to _live_ , but god, _god,_ I understand it now, _god_ , I want, will you let me, Steve, I'm--" He doesn't wait for an answer, only wrenches himself forward and puts his mouth around him again, and Steve throws his head back and gives off some _guttural_ sound and, fuck, Bucky could come from it. 

He keeps up his pace, he strokes his tongue over the length of Steve's cock and remembers to breathe, this time, and it's sloppy as fuck. It's been so long and it's what they both need, Bucky needs exactly this, oh god does he need. He fiddles with his own pants, then his hand finds his cock, and Bucky hums with it, when he strokes himself, and Steve's hips buck and _god_ \-- 

Bucky _loves_ him, Bucky _loves_ \-- oh _god_ , does he--

And Steve's saying it, too, he's swearing a blue streak and then he's saying "Bucky," he's saying "fuck me," he's saying "god I love you, Bucky god, I love Bucky god I love you Bucky I," and then Steve's close and then coming, he's coming and Steve's fist is clenched in Bucky's hair, and Steve's pulsing in his mouth and it's two strokes before Bucky's done too, _god, god--_

And it's -- all right, then. It's all peace for a moment. It's always chaos in his mind but it's not right then, because Steve is _here,_ Steve's dick is growing soft against his tongue and he has _come_ and they are _here_ , and Steve is --

The grip in his hair loosens up; Bucky swallows; Steve slides out of him and Bucky is still kneeling through the quiet. He's opening his eyes with his lips still parted. Bucky's clean hand reaches out, grabs at Steve's leg, and he thinks he's asking Steve not to go but he's not so sure.

Steve is looking at him, seeing him through it. Then Steve is pressing his palm at Bucky's neck, some gentle gesture aimed to soothe; then it presses at his jaw, and then Steve crouches down and holds Bucky's face with both hands, and he just holds him there, and Steve's supposed to be relaxed but he only looks worried and tears spill hot from Bucky's eyes and he doesn't know why. He doesn't know why, the quiet's receding, the roar sets back in and he's still balancing on a cliff face. 

He grips at Steve's wrist to find ground, and Steve only kisses him, whole and gentle. He kneels down in front of him and kisses one eyelid, then the other; then he leans away and pulls a handkerchief from his jacket pocket while Bucky tests a hand against him. When Steve leans back he kisses at Bucky's temple, then presses his lips against his other cheek, and then he cleans Bucky up, cleans the come from his hand and off from his lap, and he pauses to kiss Bucky every few seconds throughout, and Bucky is--

He's not sure what he is. He's not sure what this is. He's on edge but he's not. He lives here now, in a liminal space. Steve was supposed to -- to help him, and he _is_ , look at him, Bucky loves him _so_ much and it's -- good -- but it's not _fixed,_ and Bucky thought --

"Hey," Steve says, and forces Bucky's gaze to focus with a hand at his chin. "You're okay now," Steve says, and smiles at him, only it's the sad one, and Bucky's brow folds against it. "You're here with me, Buck. Do you trust me? I'm gonna make sure -- I'm gonna take some of that burden off you, Bucky. Believe you me." Steve kisses him, and Bucky closes his eyes against it, and then he clasps gentle at Steve's neck because he believes him, or he wants to believe him, or...

"I don't know that you can," Bucky says eventually; and then a smile hits him, too, the same sad one Steve had worn. "But thanks for -- I dunno," he says. He gives a ghost of laughter. "Letting me suck your dick, I guess. That was good. That'll help. It felt all right, for a while. I'd like to keep doing that."

And that brings a quirk of a smile to Steve's face, _Steve's face_ , just the same face he left behind, even through the seemingly permanent crease of worry in his brow. "I don't know about that," Steve says, and holds Bucky to him when he pitches his forehead suddenly against Steve's shoulder. "I've got a certain predisposition in that regard myself, don't forget about that."

"Great," Bucky says hoarsely, without raising his head. "We'll suck each other's dicks. Glad you came around."

"I also seem to remember a conversation about how best to coax a screaming groundhog out of winter…"

Steve's interrupted by hacking laughter from deep in Bucky's lungs, and Bucky's grateful that it happened, because some hot pulse thrums deep in his gut again and he's not sure this particular tree root is exactly amenable to a proper fucking. "Yeah, yeah," he says, and raises his head at last. 

He hates to do it; Steve is comfortable, he is so broad, but they can't stay here. It's reckless, after all. It's reckless. They don't have a weapon and they're on enemy ground. "Boy you know I'm gonna hold you down and make you feel it, same as always," Bucky says, and they help each other stumblingly to their feet, entangled and fond. "You're not getting away from it just because you're gigantic. You can be gigantic and still take my dick in your ass."

"Well thank god," Steve deadpans as he dresses himself. "It's important to take stock of one's priorities during wartime and I'm glad we've done it."

"God bless America," Bucky says, and slaps Steve's ass, just because he can.

Then they dress themselves and also each other, too fond to stay distant for long. They know going back to camp will prevent this, will keep them five feet apart at all times. Then somehow they are kissing again, but it's so much softer than before, something that makes Bucky's heart race but that leaves him feeling stabler, stronger than before, and he loves him, he loves him, he--

"I really do love you," Steve says against his lips, and when Bucky smiles it's a genuine thing, spent pressing at Steve's cheek and at the corner of his mouth.

"I know, Rogers," Bucky says, and when he does he sounds almost like he used to, when he was young and not… 

He clears his throat. 

"I never doubted it," he finishes, and flashes Steve a thin smile.

Steve isn't fooled. Steve pulls Bucky into him; presses his lips against his neck, and envelopes him wholly.

And Bucky uses him as support, he leans in, he can't help it, he's just so broad -- and he wraps his fingers 'round Steve's wrist, so much bigger than it used to be, and holds and holds, and Steve does too.


End file.
